Whew!

I've enjoyed these Olympics. Heck, I always enjoy the Olympics. The women figure skaters absolutely blew me away this year. They were graceful, beautiful and gracious in addition to being wonderfully sparkly! The ice dancers were fun and a little freaky. Thank you Russia and England for some memorable conversations!

The snowboarding contingent always makes me smile and want to use "dude" in casual conversation - I could never pull it off, but the ambition remains. Double luge gave me the skeeve factor I crave in a two-week long event. Skiing? What little I could see through the cloud of snow and haze, my hat is off to those folks. I'm adding my knees and ankles to my organ donor card - I'm sure they're going to need them.

Curling? If I see it again before the next Olympics I will gouge out my eyes and donate my healthy joints to the ski team and remain alive to tell about it. I'll serve as a human warning against this heinous and mind-numbing activity. Mike, the love of my life for nearly 25 years, LURVES curling and I'm pretty sure every single minute that NBC filmed has been viewed on our television (hence the surplus baking and ultra-laundry). I still love Mike, but I'm not liking him too much right now. I think he's going to have to watch extra gymnastics during the summer Olympics to make up for the curling damage he's incurred on this household.

My hope is that the world will reject spandex unitards over the next four years. Really, I do not care how fit you are, it's never going to work. Ever. The men look like women and the women look like men (can you say speed-skating polterwang?). It's just wrong all-around. And, then you have the mishaps - what a shame to train your whole life for something and be remembered as the chick who forgot to put on her underpants the morning of the big race.

Behold the miracle of Orthodontia!

Here's Ian at 7, I think. You get a hint of the problems facing him tooth-wise. Poor kid got the worst of the teeth genes from my family AND Mike's family. Shortly before he turned 12, we started with braces. Now, shortly after turning 16, the braces are finally off!!!!

Behold! Yes, that is a 16-year-old boy staring down his mom who is cursing and threatening him if he doesn't smile and show off his beautiful, expensive new teeth. He was not pleased about me taking this picture. But, his teeth are amazing. You cannot believe the miracles our orthodontist and dentist worked together.

He went through a lot to get those teeth. If you are looking into braces for your child, my best advice is to consult initially with at least two orthodontists, three is even better. Most consults are free or minimal charge and you'll be amazed at how different doctors approach the same mouth. I'm so glad we did this with Ian.

Now, all hail Ian's teeth. 8)

Are you a dreamer?

I am. I'm a dreamer in the sense that I have vivid dreams anytime I sleep (unless a serious painkiller is involved). I've always just accepted that I have insane dreams. Dream interpretation isn't one of my huge interests, though I get it - it just makes me more paranoid about how weird I might truly be. Mostly, I just accept the weird, take a shower as soon as I wake up to wash it away and get on with my life. But . . . even for me the weird dreams are starting to freak me out! I've been waking up really angry or really sad or really thrilled about things that have not happened. And, what's worse, it's crazy hard to shake that feeling.

For me, I think it's the fact that things are changing and to the permanent so quickly here. Dan is officially finishing up his training at the local grocery store. He'll be a senior next year and then, sniff, it will all change. And Ian and Tim are right behind him. I want them all to be independent thinkers and independent people ... I just thought there would be more time or something. It's going so fast!

QUICK ASIDE: If you are planning to work in a grocery store: things to note: If you are under 17, you may NOT use scissors in the store. If you are under 18, stay away, far away, from the box cutters (which are actually hooks with no blade). Really, when you start seeing all the rules, it's a wonder the world functions at all. It's crazy! If a kid is old enough to quit high school or drive a car, I'd like to think scissors and a fake box cutter are ok. If you have doubts, why would you hire that kid?

But, this is all about me ... errrr, I mean us, you know, my family. With Dan's working, school, the other kids' activities and what seem to be a multitude of doctor's appointments lately, I've become a home-bound recluse unless I'm in the death seat teaching someone to learn how to drive. I feel out of control (in the sense that I do not have control, not in the sense that I don't feel I can control myself) and I think that's coming up in my dreams. I'm sure it will all pass, but in the meantime, I'm trying to keep my sense of humor. Wish me luck treading the fine line between giggling and shrieking hysterically.

In other news, Ian got his braces off. WOW!!!!! He's had braces on since shortly before he turned 12, he turned 16 last month. In that time he's grown and changed so much I had no idea how much seeing his teeth instead of metal would change his face. Obviously, I'm the mom and I think all my kids are beautiful, but the change in Ian is dramatic! He was born without one adult tooth and he won't let me take his picture until tomorrow when he gets the fake tooth we'll use until he's done growing and can get an implant. I can't wait for you all to see him!

It's late, I'm on top of the laundry once more, the dishes are done and I have five sleeping bodies in my house. OK - day done. Let's see what tomorrow brings.

Amanda update

I apologize for not keeping you up-to-date on Amanda. Her gamma knife surgery was this past Tuesday. Believe it or not, it's usually an outpatient procedure. Amanda, according to her mom, was an absolute trooper! In fact, when they stopped on the way home, Amanda wanted to join her brothers and sisters and friends on the trampoline. Trooper or no, Joy put her foot down and deposited Amanda on the couch at home for some rest.

Thanks for your prayers and good thoughts. I will keep you posted. Here's hoping this is the end of it and there's nothing but recovery in Amanda's future.

This made me truly LAUGH OUT LOUD

If you are under 40 you're unlikely to get this. The rest of you, though, please enjoy!

Memories . . .

Something about the Olympics triggers memories for me. I don't have a lot of non-family ties to my past. No real reason, I guess I moved at times that stopped me from continuing ties I'd made through my school years. Or maybe I'm not bff (how I hate that abbreviation!) material, whatever it is, I have no ties to my past lives. I envy people that have friends from first grade (like Mike and his bff Mike) or people who have best friends from college or high school - I envied their friendships when I was IN college and/or high school. I just never made those connections.

Anyway, something about the Winter Olympics made me think of the first high school I attended. So I googled it and couldn't resist clicking on the reunion link. I wasn't looking for anyone in particular, just looking. I left that high school at the end of 10th grade, but I attended grade school and junior high with many of the graduates.

I was NOT expecting to find an "IN MEMORIAM" link to the first boy I ever really 'loved.' He died this past January, almost exactly a month ago. I'm just stunned. He and I had an ongoing flirtation/extreme-like thing since we were about 12. It was so sweet and innocent. We would meet at the local park or tennis courts and walk for hours and hours just talking and talking and if we had money, we would pool it together to go to Friendly's to split a grilled cheese.

Later, as we headed into high school, we remained friendly. He was a wrestler and soccer player, I was a gymnast. Much of the time we spent together was competing with each other - running, wrestling, holding our breath, you name it. It was never a dating-thing, but we were definitely good friends and always connected. I remember feeling so proud when I visited his house one day and a picture of me with my gymnastics team was hanging on his fridge. (As a mom of four boys now, my hat is off to his mom for allowing that picture on her fridge!)

The day we moved from Pittsburgh to New Jersey, he showed up early in the morning to send us off. It was my 16th birthday. Before I climbed into my mom's beige Aspen station wagon he gave me the kiss of a lifetime in the middle of my childhood street. We parted with tears in our eyes (really, we did!). In my whole life, he was someone who stands out as a person who was fun and challenging to talk to (sorry, that's a terrible sentence).

We remained friends, writing frequent letters (pre-email dontcha know) and post cards through high school and college. Once we both started working, we lost touch. And, now I'm sorry we lost touch. I am sorry for his family and friends. He was one of the good guys and he's gone.

It's so sad.

Lots of prayers and positive thoughts needed!

I know you all know about my friend Joy's daughter, Amanda. She's going in for a procedure on Tuesday. Here's the latest update from Joy. If you are inclined, please say a prayer or think a good thought for them on Tuesday. And, also, please wish Sean (I met Joy when she and I were both pregnant, her with Sean, me with Andy) a Happy 10th Birthday today (Monday).

Heartbreak!

I am not a puzzle-person. It's not that I don't like puzzles, I just am really bad at puzzles and, knowing I'm bad at them, I hate the communal thing puzzles seem to bring about. But, left alone with a puzzle, I will give up sleep and food and nearly all creature comforts to make a few pieces work. Not pretty. I used to struggle with putting the boys wooden toddler puzzles back together at the end of each day if that gives any indication of my lack of puzzle skills.

So . . . when my parents started a puzzle with the boys on their last overnight visit, I was happy about it. When the boys brought the unfinished puzzle home, not so happy. Not only was it a Simpson's puzzle, each little piece had its own picture. And it's been in my house for nearly two weeks now. All six of us have spent countless hours matching pinks and trying to figure out Bart's pj's and Marge's hair. Last night we finished . . . ALMOST.

How cruel is this? ONE piece missing. We have moved all the furniture, checked every corner of our house (which is now spectacularly clean - benefit!). The piece is gone.

I'm posting this on the off chance that one of you might have found the missing puzzle piece (MOM!).

It's that angsty time of year . . .

As we head to the end of our tenth year of homeschooling, I find myself once again feeling angst-y and stressed. The older boys are 'old' now and what they are doing 'counts.' Being the glass-half-empty kind of person I am, I find myself daily wondering what I've missed, how have I failed them, why is no one crying->we must not be doing enough (yes, this thought crosses my mind all too often!).

To ease my mind, I wrote out on our handy-dandy white board (How I long to replace that white board with a very cool painting someday.) what each kid is doing each day. I feel mildly reassured. I think. Wahhhhhh! I look at the lists and think how much more they could be doing if only I was willing to give up sleeping and become a vegetarian. But, I'm selfish and I'm not giving up sleep or my carnivorous habits just yet.

The big thing on our to-do list is to get Ian and Tim ready for the PSAT. Dan has taken the SAT and done very well, though he wants to take it again -- don't know where he gets that. But, I abhor the thought of teaching a test. Yet, I'm going to do it because that's how the game is played. And, because I do very little in moderation, in fact, nothing but laundry pops into my head when thinking about moderation. Someone talk me out of wallpapering the kids' bathroom and bedrooms with vocabulary words, essay hints and strategic math skills. Really. Tell me not to do it.

I don't think I have ever described homeschooling as easy here - fun, yes, but not easy. I am, however, finding it difficult and scary as the boys get older. Very scary, in fact. What if I've ruined them? Socially, they're just fine - they're all black belts and could knock anyone out for lunch money at any time. But, what if I've focused too much on one thing? What if they had too much history and Latin and not enough elective kind of stuff? What if they goof and call Pluto a planet, or not a planet - what exactly IS the status of Pluto lately?

And then, "If if's and but's were candy and nuts we'd all have a good Christmas, right?" I think I have to go with that for now - for the sake of sanity.

High Praise . . .

I'll take it where I can find it. Andy's best friend, Paul, spent the night tonight. When I called the boys in from playing outside I gave them the choice of pancakes or tacos for dinner. (Mike and the older boys were all off doing other things and I love nothing better than an easy dinner.) They voted for tacos. In my laziest mode, I heated up some ground beef left over from another meal and dumped in a can of enchilada sauce rather than figure out the taco seasonings (yes, I am that lazy). Heated some taco shells, chopped lettuce, discovered we had no real cheese so grated some Velveeta, and popped the lid off of the sour cream.

Initially, I fixed each boy one taco. They don't normally eat a lot because they are too busy talking and plotting. Today, however, they'd spent the entire day outside running full speed and were both starving. Before I could turn around they were both back for taco #2. At this point I realized Tim would be home soon and I didn't have a lot of meat left in the pan, so I dumped in some rice (if it's ok for Taco Bell . . .) and some more sauce to heat up.

At this point, Paul came out to tell me that mine were the most delicious tacos he'd ever had in his whole life. Nice. Tim came home, and immediately ate three tacos. Andy and Paul sidled up for a third taco, too. This round, Paul told me "Your tacos are even BETTER than the ones I get at school. And that's NOT an insult." Well, pass me a hairnet!

Honestly, Paul is just like Danny was at 10 - too busy (things to do, talk about, places to move to, etc. lol) to be bothered with food and meals. (Andy, on the other hand, is a food savorer, like his dad. He is willing to stop and eat anytime! I think it's part survival mechanism for him with the three older brothers.) So, if Paul actually takes time to eat and comment about what he's eating - sheesh! Someone call the Iron Chef!

Later, after ice cream sandwiches, the boys and I made a run to Walgreen's to get Nesquik for hot chocolate (seriously, it's cold here in Florida!). As we got back into the truck (Mike had my car so he could haul many scouts), the 70's station on Mike's XM radio popped up. It was some sappy love song from the early 70's (the name of the song is escaping me right now and you should thank me for not singing it to you!) Paul quickly announced that he lurved this song and could I please take the longest way home so he and Andy could have time to talk. I turned the song up and he and Andy spent the rest of the ride home in hysterics. They're growing up :::sniff:::: but at least they're funny.

We got home, I made hot chocolate, did the dinner dishes and the boys set up a game of Monopoly. I cannot prove it, but I'm fairly certain they were cheating. Both boys were rolling doubles like crazy and I kept landing in jail. We halted the game because I was all done and they were getting that goofy glazed look kids get when they're too tired. The plan is to finish the game tomorrow afternoon. If anyone has loaded dice, please send them ASAP.

Grow up already . . .

No, not you. I'm talking to myself. I'm watching a rerun of the Olympic events from today while I catch up on all things virtual. I do love the Olympics - I like the stories, the over-the-top music and all of it. Tonight, I tip my hat to Shaun White. WOW! I could not do what he did even if I was 22 and attached to a ton of wires and props. The man was flying and flipping and defying gravity in totally cool looking snowpants no less.

Tonight, I am sitting here alone realizing that it's unlikely that I'll ever grow up and be a true adult. Why? The Double Luge. Honestly. I get that the sport evolved from people having to come down off a mountain for market day or something. But, as the mom of four boys, even if the boys had to share two sleds, Double Luging would not be the way they'd go down the mountain. Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, four brothers had to share two sleds. The only way they could get food for the family was to sled down the mountain in pairs. The brothers enjoyed racing each other down the hill.

Let's say we are one of the mythical brothers in the story above, just for fun. One, they'd most likely like to see what's coming up ahead and would not opt to go down feet first. Two, if they had to share a sled, I do not see the advantage to going down the mountain feet first, stacked one on top of the other. Three, most likely, they would be bundled up in wool garments making them lumpy and bulky.

Fast forward to 2010. In 2010, we all appreciate traditions when they make sense. The Double Luge does not make sense on any level. I don't know about you but I would be slightly freaked out if my 12-year-old son came home and announced he wanted to train for the Olympics as a layer of a Double Luge team. Heck, I'd be freaked out if he wanted a spandex unitard.

I'd probably ask "Son, why do you want to wear a Spandex unitard, special sock-like shoes and lie on top of your friend while hurtling down an unseen tube of ice?" I love my sons no matter what - even if they want a spandex unitard, but let's face it, no matter how you wrap your head around it, the double luge is a weird sport. Regular guys do not stack themselves up, face up/face down in any circumstances. Why is it still an Olympic sport?

I'm going to bed with the sincere desire to grow up and appreciate sports I do not understand.

Irrationality . . .

That's me and doctors. I have an irrational fear of doctors and their offices and other environs. I know doctors personally (meaning I don't come to them for treatment, nor do I visit their offices I just see them at bbq's and scout stuff) and I like them. They are funny, smart, interesting people. But, when I'm faced with having to visit a doctor on a professional basis, all bets are off. I do better when I have to take one of the kids to the doctor's office, but not by much.

Why? Well, it's all the questions and it's the dilemma about answering the way you SHOULD answer or answering truthfully. Now that the boys are older, I worry if they have something going on medically. Should I have done something differently when they were little? Even though most of our doctors have been our doctors for years and years, even our new doctors are mild in their patient history and other info forms. Yet, the night before an appointment, I toss and turn imagining questions:

"Have you ever knowingly fed your child something called chicken nuggets, fingers or planks?"
"Have you ever let a child under the age of five drink from your Diet Soda?"
"Have you ever told your child that ketchup and/or pickles are a vegetable?"
"Have you ever napped on the couch for two hours and let your preschoolers watch Disney videos while eating Cheerio's and cheese sticks?"

You get my drift. Dan had a 10 am appointment this morning. I was up and pacing by 6 am. Yes, me the vampire.

Everything I have done that was not "good" might be affecting my now 10, 16, 16 and 17 year olds. I can't take it back. Do I withhold this information so I look like a good parent or do I bare all and risk being on an episode of "Cops?" (Why do I always leave my good tube tops at the dry cleaners?) I never gave a child a bottle filled with Mountain Dew if that counts.

Some of you might remember we got the all clear on Dan's brain. However, the fainting/flopping/passing out continues. We saw the neurologist again last week. I still like him. If I had a child who really needed a neurologist, he would be my guy. He's direct. He doesn't talk down to you, but makes sure you and your child understand what he's saying. And, his office is well-run. He can't figure Dan out, so he sent us to the cardiologist. That's where we spent this morning. Great office, we both really liked the doctor as well. She and the neurologist are in agreement, but the cardiologist saw more on her tests (an EKG and something else). Another round of upping his salt and fluid intake. At this point, I don't know what else can be salted, but Mike had the idea of installing a cow lick next to Dan's bed. I think we might go with that option. We go back in three months to discuss medication (beta blockers) and other possible treatments.

The good news, Dan's brain and heart are essentially fine. But, as Andy(the best little brother evah!) observed, clearly Dan's black soul lies somewhere else within his body. Really, though, good news. But, I am SO tired. Thinking about and actually going to doctor's offices uses up my reserves. It's not rational, but that's how I react. The upside of today was getting so see two beautiful wee babies (less than four months). WOW! How easy it is to forget how little and perfect they are. I didn't want to take a baby home with me, but I would gladly have sat holding one (or both) of them for hours if the parents had asked.

For now, I'm gearing up for Ian getting his braces off on Thursday and then a visit to the dentist on Friday. Honestly, in eight days, I've been in five different doctor's offices if you count lab work visits too. I'm a giant human hive right now - the little 'one-doctor's-office-visit' hives have merged into one giant, all-encompassing hive. It's attractive. I know the boys appreciate it because it's easy to find me in the waiting room - "That's her. My mom is the giant red lump in the corner. Yep. That one who is pretending to read a book."

Anyone available Thursday and Friday? I can offer: homemade bread; a check, if you don't mind holding it for a bit; excellent gumbo; or happy hour on Friday.

It's like riding a bike, huh?

I never go so long without posting here. It's weird to be back - I missed you all! We are the worst family about being sick. It doesn't happen often and when it does, we are a mess when we come out of it. After a full week of barfing and sleeping and more stomach upset and not eating, we are finally back to full-speed. How Danny and Mike managed to avoid it all is a mystery. Thank God, they were healthy, though. They kept the rest of us in Gatorade and ginger ale. They did the nasty laundry and scrubbed the bathrooms. The rest of us, slept where we fell - for days on end. It was not pretty. Ian and I, with our allergies, have lethargic days periodically throughout the year. Tim and Andy? Never. The pair of them slept for 3-4 days in 12-14 hour stretches. Unreal. But, like I said, we're all back to human now.

From my in-and-out week, the best I can tell is that many of you are buried in snow and expecting more. Yuck. I will spare you my complaints of how "cold" it is here. (But, it IS really cold and I want a new sweater.)

We watched the opening ceremonies of the Olympic Games on Friday night. Cool orcas. Bummer on the torch. Mike and the boys have been watching a lot of events this weekend. Me? I'm holding out for the figure skating - the ice dancing tonight was inspiring.

Last night, we had some friends over to celebrate Joel turning 48. I baked a bundt cake and Mike and the boys found 48 candles. We bundled the candles with a rubber band and stuffed them into the middle of the cake. Glorious. After we finished roasting marshmallows, we sang Happy Birthday (really loud, because Joel is all old now) and devoured the cake. Mike and Joel are the same age. I'm thinking 49 and 50 must involve potato canons or something equally spectacular. Send me your ideas!

What else? I have nothing - I've been asleep or catching up on stoopid stuff - food, clothing, hygeine, etc.

Ian has been driving. Gah! Today he drove all the way to Target without having to trade seats with me. This is a good thing as it's cold (did I mention the cold) and I have a hard time unclenching my hands from the "Jesus handle" above the passenger side door.

Parking aside, it was a relatively good trip. And, parking a 1998 Suburban in a new Target parking lot is no small feat. Ian hit nothing and I cannot ask for more than that. Learning to drive a tank is slow tedious work. Now, everyone take a moment to pray that Tim will continue to avoid the 4-hour-online test that would allow him to get a permit. I don't know that I can teach two at once without resorting to drugs or alcohol - it's a joke - that's the test Tim is avoiding - it's long and tedious and, hey, someone pass me a drink.

It's Thursday?????

We've been flattened by a stomach virus here since shortly before half-time on Sunday evening - well, not all of us - Mike and Dan managed to escape the virus. I am finally feeling fully human again and hope the boys wake up feeling the same way. I'll be back later, but thought I'd check in before I attacked the laundry and the rest of the house.

Death by napping . . .

It's no secret, I love a good nap. In fact, there are few things I love more than a good nap. I like all naps and generally take one every day while the kids have lunch. But my daily naps are mostly just flopping on the couch and closing my eyes and pretending I don't hear anything and if I keep my eyes closed, the boys know not to talk to me - it's a sanity thing.

Today, however, I am talking about a REAL nap. The kind where you put your jammies on in the middle of the day, block out the light in your room and snuggle up ignoring all adult responsibility. That's a REAL nap. They are few and far between, but they are delicious and irresistible to me.

Poor Mike, my early-to-bed-early-to-rise husband. He's not a napper. Fortunately, though, he appreciates how napping brings out my better qualities and he indulges me. Today, even for me, was a little over the top. If I get to sleep in AND follow that up with a nap, here I am at 3:30 am wondering what other quiet things I can do until I'm sleepy. It's a vicious cycle. :::sigh::: Pity me, the slow learner of life's lessons.

Last night, the kids spent the night at my parents (aka Bing and Pap). It's an annual thing - my mom gets them bookstore gift cards for Christmas and they make a weekend out of spending them. The kids love this tradition, and so do we! The older boys are certainly old enough to leave home if Mike and I really want to go out for dinner or something. But there's always that what-if/what's-really-going-on feeling when we do this. It's not all that relaxing. However, when the kids are all at Bing and Pap's, they become Bing and Pap's problem. It's a whole new dynamic. Sure, we'd be sad if Danny went joy-riding in Pap's car at 3 am or if Tim snuck his harem into their house after Bing and Pap had gone to bed, but it really would not be our fault, would it? No, it wouldn't. Do we really expect our kids to do these kinds of things? Of course we don't. But there is always that possibility.

Mike and I originally planned to go for dinner somewhere. But we ended up eating dinner here and then going to our local "dive" to listen to music and hang out on the patio under what I consider one of the greatest trees in the world. This tree is ginormous and so wonderfully curved and funky looking. Add to that fact there is a table directly under it and someone will bring us adult beverages while we sit and contemplate the tree - BINGO!

I apologize in advance to all of my snow-bound friends, but it was a wonderful evening. Cool, but not too cool. Our cell phones were not constantly buzzing with insane questions. "Is it ok for Andy to watch District 9?" (Answer, hell no.) "Do you mind if a couple of people come over to play football?" (Yes, I do mind. Those kids are constantly at our house and they're always welcome when I'm there, but no, no, no . . . I took an inventory of the food stores and I'll know if they've been there.) And on and on and on . . . So, for the first time in too long, Mike and I were able to talk freely about anything! Crazy, huh?

It's easy in day-to-day life to forget what you really like about your spouse - well, it is for me. Nights like last night helped us remember how much we laugh together and how far we've come as a couple and as a family. We laughed so much and talked about so many crazy things that we've both been saving up for a time when we had a real chance to talk. The bartender tempted me into trying a wee tequila shot chased by pickle juice. I'm not a huge fan of shots or tequila, but the wee cup and the enthusiasm of the people around us who had tried it spurred me on. Go figure, it was strangely delicious. Mike couldn't get past the pickle juice which is probably just as well since he was driving.

This morning, Mike had to be at a Scout thing early. It was one of those back and forth events, so when he came home about an hour later, I got up and watched cooking shows with him. When he left a couple of hours later, I put my jammies back on, climbed into bed and napped until he came home. Ahhhh...decadent and wonderful and now I'm paying the price. And, it's worth it! (Until tomorrow ... no sleeping in, no naps, it's the Super Bowl! and a school night)

My work is done - the house is clean, the laundry is done, most of the food is made and I have lists of anything remaining to be done on the counter. It seems too easy. Heck, even for the last minute food and ice runs, I can just send Danny! Let them eat cake indeed. I could get used to this.

I confess

I've been watching too much television lately. I have a love/hate thing going on with our dvr. I love being able to record and save shows that no one else around here wants to watch - Project Runway comes to mind. (Anyone watching the new season? Poor Ping! She was cute and weird as hell - I was hoping she'd last a little longer.) But, there are shows that, without the dvr, I would watch if I wasn't doing something else, but I would be fine to miss them too - Kitchen Nightmares and American Idol come to mind. And, there are the shows I would simply DIE if I missed one. Those would be 24 and Lost.

We are huge 24/Jack Bauer fans here. This season is promising so far. Jack in thick glasses, speaking fluent German this week was over the top, but hysterically funny and in the end Jack Bauer rose above the bad disguise.

Lost? Anyone else see the 2 hour premiere? Every year I say I'm not going to watch because the writers just drag you along with no resolutions. And, every year, I end up watching with the boys. Once again, I'm "lost" and confused.

In the meantime, there is a lot that is not getting done around here. This is usually the time of year I flirt with the idea of getting rid of cable tv and getting most of our stuff from Netflix or online. When we don't turn the tv on, no one misses it. Who knows, maybe this will be the year I finally do it?

OK - Lost is done. Time to get to some laundry and the kitchen and tomorrow's to-do list. Woohoo.

Why not?

Mike and the boys came home from Scouts tonight and asked "We're having a Super Bowl party, right?" Ummm . . . sure. Yes. Party at our house this Sunday. Why not? It'll be fun and I love Super Bowl food.

But, I started thinking about it and I remember when Dan, Tim and Ian were all still bald, my mom telling me that two years makes a tradition. She was talking about little kids and the fact that if you do something in a big way with them two years in a row, they will grow up to believe it was a family tradition. I'm living proof of this theory, as are my older sons. You will never convince me my family did not go on a yearly hike through the snow to find the perfect Christmas tree. According to my mom, it was two years through a snowy-ish parking lot. For my kids it was two years of kicking off the new "homeschool" year with breakfast out or, at the very least, donuts. Sure, I'm not going to argue about things that happened nearly 10 years ago. Interesting AND useful, huh?

I'm seeing how this works with parties as well. You have a get together two years in a row, you will always have a party. Good by me, that means I don't have to put on shoes. Now, who has good Superbowl food recipes they want to share? Jump right in. Next, who wants to come clean? Don't rush, I can divide the work among several people! Just name your specialty - dust? floors? bathrooms? windows? Go for it! Fine. I thought I'd give it a shot.

In other news, I had a proud moment at the library today. As I stood at the desk to check out my new books, the librarian scanned my card and NO FINES!!!! Not a one. I felt so clean and virtuous. And, to think I made the boys scrounge the car seats for change as we pulled into our parking space. I think this may just be the year I finally get invited to the Library Police's Annual Award Banquet. Dare I hope to be the "Most Improved Patron?" What should I wear?

Oooo look a butterfly . . .

sorry . . . I'm distracted lately. I have good ideas for blog posts and then a butterfly flits by and I forget that idea and go off and sort socks while listening to my latest audiobook (right now, Gone With the Wind). It's bad enough if you read this blog ... imagine my poor family. It's far worse for them. In fact, that's why I'm up tonight, catching up on laundry. :::sigh::: The laundry does not respect my attention deficit. I hate the laundry. The people sleeping in this house right now had better be grateful for the clean underpants tomorrow.

So, as I wait for the dryer to buzz, I'll share what I can . . . First, this video. I kind of liked it, but it makes me think, "People actually make a living doing this kind of stuff?" I spent three years of my life working for a woman who would send faxes back to my desk with spelling and grammatical errors circled in HOT pink demanding I fix them. Nothing I could do or say could convince that woman that I was not the one sending the faxes. And, all that time I could have been in NYC being carried around by strangers!!!! Bitterness aside, it made me smile and feel a vague urge to go shop for some new cool clothes. This is a work-safe/kid-safe video. I think it will make you smile too.



Next up, this is the opening line to a blog I read. It's a conservative leaning blog, so consider yourself warned if you choose to read the whole thing. This guy is funny - so funny that Fox News only puts him on at 3 am. I only found him last time I was really sick and on the couch. He's just flat-out funny. Here is the line that captured my heart:

If you’re like me, and congratulations if you are, then you try to enjoy your weekends. For example, I spent last Saturday in bed, watching my favorite soaps, eating donut holes basted in Nyquil. I call them happy holes – after seven of them, you think you’re an Angoran rabbit. I don't know, it just spoke to me. If you want to read the full article, click here.

I've been desperate for something new and different here. Over the weekend, I broke down. I sanded down our butcher block counter tops - love the counter tops, hate the stains. After much sanding, smoothing and all of that, I stained them BLACK. (Insert Rolling Stones.) Here is a picture - on the other side of the room, is a super-long stained black table with benches and chairs that fit in with the room. I think it all kind of ties together now. I used a lot of black in the back splash which you never really noticed until now. We'll see how the black stain holds up over the next few months.